


Wasteland

by thatsmygvn (cougarlips)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: ..... kinda, Canon Compliant, Child Neglect, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Maggie Greene is a good bro, POV Third Person, Post 6x14, Pre 6x15, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, honestly daryl's entire life history but yknow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6710968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cougarlips/pseuds/thatsmygvn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You ain’t got no right telling me what I am,” he raged. “You don’t know a thing about me.”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Jesus met his gaze evenly, his nerves steeled and his crystalline eyes hard. “You’re right. I don’t,” he said clearly. “How can I if you won't open up? I’m willing to learn everything you’re willing to share, Daryl Dixon."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Or: Daryl is a ball of internalized self hatred and Jesus wants to get to the bottom of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasteland

**Author's Note:**

> A few other notes:
> 
> 1) These characters are mentioned, but not physically in the fic: Merle Dixon, his and Daryl's parents, Sophia Peletier, T-Dog, Dale Horvath, Hershel Greene, Shane Walsh, Tyreese Williams, Bob Stookey, Noah, Beth Greene, Axel, Oscar, Lori Grimes, Andrea Harrison, The Governor, Glenn Rhee, Tara Chambler, Lilly and Meghan Chambler (not by name), Dawn Lerner (not by name), and Dwight.
> 
> 2) Follows Denise's canon death in 6x14.

“You’re a good man,” Jesus told him, eyes facing forward and a serious expression in his furrowed brows.

He watched Daryl as if waiting for a response, as if he expected the other man to reply at all, but he knew Daryl was closed off, knew he was so tightly coiled inside that he could spring any moment. After all, Jesus had talked to everyone he could about this mysterious man: starting with Michonne (“Daryl has his reasons to be closed off,” he told him with a warning in her voice), then Maggie (“We trust him with our life; we also trust him to tell us his past when he’s ready,”), and even Glenn (“Carol, Carl, and I have been with Daryl since the start; He’s always been like this,”).

Daryl sat on Denise’s grave, holding in his hands a can of soda and a keyring with his elbows propped up on his knees. He hadn’t said a word since he checked on Eugene, not even to Rick or Michonne, who sat on their porch with their faces taut with worry and Carl and Judith playing between them. Rosita and Abraham had told them what happened with Dwight and Eugene, yet Daryl hadn’t opened his mouth.

“Daryl, this _isn’t_ your fault,” Jesus urged, and he watched Daryl set his jaw.

“How the hell d’you figure that, huh?” he uttered, so low Jesus almost didn’t catch it.

He stared at Daryl. “You’re a good person, Daryl, but you can’t control what other people do. Her death is _not_ on your hands.”

Daryl snorted, turning to face Jesus with a cruel expression in his eyes. “You don’t know shit,” he told Jesus. “I shoulda killed that son of a bitch when he took my bike and bow _months_ ago. Shoulda stopped it right before it even started.”

“But you didn’t,” Jesus insisted.

Daryl stared at him with venom in his eyes, but Jesus continued unabashedly. “You gave him a chance, just like you gave _me_ a chance. You’re a _good_ person, Daryl.”

Furiously, Daryl stood up and rounded on him, getting into his face. “You ain’t got _no_ right telling me what I am!” he raged. “You don’t know a _thing_ about me.”

Jesus met his gaze evenly, his nerves steeled and his crystalline eyes hard. “You’re right. I don’t,” he said clearly. “But how can I if you won't open up? I’m willing to learn everything you’re willing to share, Daryl Dixon.”

“Like what?” Daryl matched, stepping ever closer to the shorter man. “Whaddaya wanna know about me -- my childhood?” he insisted. “‘m white trash from the sticks with drunks for parents who never gave a shit about me. M’brother spent more time locked up than he did with us.

“You wanna know what I did at the _start_ of this shit storm? Bounced through camps with Merle and robbed  ‘em blind before he got his dumb ass ‘cuffed to a rooftop and sawed his own hand off.

“Met up with him a while ago!” Daryl snarled. “He was playin’ Second in Command to the man who killed Maggie’s dad, who killed Andrea, who kidnapped Glenn an’ made my brother tie him to a chair an’ throw a walker at him. He killed Merle, made _me_ put him down, an’ then he destroyed the first place I could'a called home, turned it into walker-infested rubble --”

Jesus watched Daryl’s shoulder sag before he took another deep breath and shoved himself back in Jesus’s face. “I got out with Maggie’s sister, who was only eighteen before I left her for a _minute_ and let her get taken. Didn’t have her back for more than five before her brains were blown out _two feet_ in front of me. I had to carry her out to Maggie after I convinced her she was alive.”

Daryl turned away and his eyes landed once more on the cross on top of the fresh dirt. From his pocket he drew a worn hunting knife, and without a second thought he hurled it into the earth. Jesus caught the engraved “B. Greene” on its hilt before Daryl rounded on him once more.

“Happy now?” he demanded. With a final flare of his nostrils he strode away, leaving the knife behind. Jesus watched him go, unable to mask the sadness in his eyes as Maggie joined him. She reached down for the blade with a grimace on her face before she turned to look up at him.

“Beth….” Maggie sighed. “She was good.  If anyone could’ve gotten Daryl to open up, it probably would’ve been her. But she was… _too_ good. Innocent.” She traced the carvings in the blood-stained hilt. “They’re the last to survive.”

“How many have you lost?” Jesus asked, and with a humorless smile Maggie looked to the sky.

“When we all met -- Rick’s group and my family -- they were searching for Carol’s daughter. She was one of the first. They’d just lost half their group, though. Some just parted ways…. Others decided to end it for themselves.

"Rick’s best friend, a man named Dale, my entire family except for my dad and Beth -- they were lost to a herd that forced us to abandon the farm, where I grew up. When we made it to the prison, we lost T-Dog. And we lost Axel and Oscar, too. We lost Lori -- Carl’s mom, Rick’s wife. My dad. Andrea. Daryl’s brother. Tara lost her sister and niece. Then when the prison fell we lost all of the children, and then we lost Bob and Beth and Tyreese. We lost Noah right after we got here to Alexandria.”

“So only a few,” Jesus mused. He pulled his hat off and ran a hand callously through his hair. “I’m sorry. About everything. Everyone you’ve lost,” he amended.

“Everyone’s lost people,” she said seriously. She nodded towards the houses and sighed. “With Daryl…. He blamed himself for his brother’s murder. He blames himself for what happened to Beth. He’s going to blame himself for Denise’s murder now. All we can do is let him know none of _us_ blame him but still give him space and let him grieve.”

She shook her head. “I’m worried, though,” she admitted. “The Governor -- the man who killed Merle -- he was killed when he took down the Prison. Daryl killed the woman who killed Beth. The man who killed Denise… Daryl knew him and he’s still alive. Daryl’s gonna wanna make him pay.”

The two lapsed into silence as Maggie continued to twirl the knife between her fingers. Then, she looked at him and handed it to him gingerly. “He should be cooled off by now. A little bit, at least.”

With a heave, he pushed himself away from the house he propped himself against. He walked slowly towards the building Daryl stalked off to before he caught the scent of a burning cigarette from the side of the house. As he peered over, he saw Daryl bracing his back against the brick wall with a long-forgotten smoke in his fingers. As it began burning away to his fingertips, he watched Daryl finally give it his attention -- Jesus winced as he watched Daryl smother the lit end on the back of his hand, where he saw identical circles of varying ages littering the skin.

He watched Daryl for several more seconds, watched as he threw what was left of the cigarette onto the ground and smeared it with his boot, watched as he took a deep breath and resting his head against the brick. “It isn’t on you,” he finally spoke. Daryl opened his eyes but didn’t look at him.

Jesus backed away and sat on the steps of the house, holding in his hands the blood-stained hunting knife. Turning it over in his hands, his eyes found a small smiley face scratched into the other side of the hilt.

**Author's Note:**

> i do have a twd-centric blog where i'm sharing/posting all of my fanfiction among other things like reblogs of the cast, crew, and characters of twd. for anyone interested, it's [@thatsmygvn](http://thatsmygvn.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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